


Opening Day

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [34]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (discussed not performed), Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Angst, Cold Weather, Come Eating, Conversations, Cyborgs, Djinni & Genies, Dullahan!Soldier, Dullahans, Family, Faun!Scout, Fauns & Satyrs, Fluff, Garuda - Freeform, Groping, Hot Chocolate, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Kitsune, Love, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Multi, Paperwork, Propositions, Surveillance, Voyeurism, Werewolf!Demoman, Werewolves, cyborg!Engineer, djinni!Pyro, garuda!Medic, half-jotun!Heavy, kitsune!Spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Pauling's job is a rough one, and she's been assigned to go visit the BLU base on the first day of the work year (January 2nd) and handle some revisions in the mercenaries' contracts, as well as some issues involving some of Medic's attempts at magical innovation.  Meanwhile, the BLU team settles in on their first day back from furlough, greeting their friends and lovers, and taking the time to bond in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The end of the old year was always an exhausting slog of filing and organization, largely done in a single, large burst of activity once delegated down to Miss Pauling, in the anticipation of a slightly slower work day leading into the new year. Helen didn't have patience for either of those things, but knew it was how Pauling preferred to work. She only had one day off a year, but Helen allowed her overworked assistant a slow day at the office every once in a while, partly to let her recharge, partly to keep her on her toes.

The Administrator herself tended to avoid the office on such days. She wasn't needed to observe her employees, all of her reprimands and write-ups had been cataloged to carry out, and all of her business had been settled before lunch. It was time for her to make her egress.

Miss Pauling clapped the dust off of her hands. The yearly filing had finally been finished, all of her records accounted for, everything in its place for easy reference, all of the battle statistics and financials cataloged, all of the paperwork properly stored. All she had left to do was go over surveillance footage and incident reports. She was on track to finish exactly ahead of schedule, just as she'd planned.

Maybe she could—

"Miss Pauling, come to my office," the older woman barked into her microphone, her voice ringing out through her office's PA system. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, steepling her fingers as she waited.

The mousy assistant deflated with a sigh. Whatever it was, the Administrator did not sound pleased, which was sure to mean she had a night of work ahead of her. She shouldn't have let herself get hopeful.

Stepping into the monitor room, Pauling could see Helen sitting in her swivel chair, her monitors displaying footage from the past year. Minor infractions, larger infractions, particularly gruesome battlefield executions, assorted shenanigans. RED Scout and RED Demoman playing beer pong on the roof. BLU Pyro disguising himself as BLU Spy's fireplace fire and leaping out with a flash of flame to terrify him. RED Soldier waving in a Mann Co. employee on a forklift into the open garage doorway, the machine driving in a pallet laden with tubs of sour cream wrapped together with clingfilm for stability. BLU Demoman and BLU Sniper limping into the base, covered in bloody, weeping bandages, using crutches and a mobile IV drip stand for support. RED Spy meeting with BLU Scout's mother for dinner at a rather upscale restaurant. BLU Scout being bounced in BLU Heavy's lap as they fucked on the rec room couch. RED Medic and RED Engineer conducting experiments on the teleporter and baked goods.

Helen's eyes were fixed on a screen showing the BLU Medic standing at the edge of a magic circle, a velvet bag filled with some reagents sitting at its centre. Pauling gazed it as she approached, making an effort to avoid the more lurid clips playing on the assorted monitors.

"Yes Administrator," Pauling chirped, watching the tape of Medic attempting and failing to cast a summoning spell using a circle. His runework was atrocious! No wonder the damn thing had gone wild! "I, um, I've got all of the paperwork filled, organized, filed in triplicate, redacted, and shredded as you asked. I was preparing the secondary monitoring room to go over the video records and incident reports, just now."

"Make sure you finish before next year, then. I don't want any discrepancies in the punch clock records," The Administrator admonished.

"Yes, Administrator. Is there anything else?"

"Miss Pauling, we have had very, very busy teams this year," the older woman announced, her voice cool and even.

"I, uh, I see that. The RED team interviewed with the director, there were those weapons their Engineer and Pyro found, then they got that wizard angry. And the BLU team...they've, um, they've been very busy with...each other." Pauling coughed, not sure how to professionally make mention of the fact that one of their teams had been fucking like rabbits on Spanish fly for the larger part of the year. Particularly during last month when their Scout had gone into rut of all things.

The monstrous team certainly knew how to have fun. And unwittingly provide amusement for those surveilling them.

"Yes, well. All of that either has been handled, or isn't important. Except for this." The Administrator pointed to the footage of Medic's failed summoning, now displaying the series of transmutations that finally settled on his garuda form. "This is an issue."

"Wings, especially now that he's learned to use them, will definitely provide an advantage to the BLU team that RED can't readily replicate."

"That's not the issue, Miss Pauling. That's another thing that can be curbed by creating rulings against flight not propelled by explosions, or just improving the reliability of RED's equipment, as usual. If anything, this just makes him a large, white target for the RED Sniper," Helen corrected. "The issue is that the BLU Medic is attempting to call creatures on company property."

Pauling squinted at the circle on the video again. "I think that's a summoning circle, not a calling circle. The garuda would have been from this reality, not interplanar."

"It is still bringing unauthorized personnel onto TFI property, Miss Pauling," Helen fumed, not appreciating being corrected. Circle magic was such a trivial, childish form of human magic anyway. "I want detailed notes, footage, files, evidence, and an action plan by tomorrow."

"Yes, Administrator. Do you want the plan on your desk?"

"Have it there before you leave, tonight. I want to see it first thing. I want this dealt with one way or the other immediately. The transfer to the Coldfront base should help in keeping these idiots in check, and you'll be going there the day after tomorrow to make sure of it."

"Opening day inspection?" Miss Pauling squeaked. She never went for inspections the first day of the work year. The mercenaries were usually given time to settle in, unpack, and acclimate to their surroundings, doubly so when transferred to a different battle theatre. Clearly, The Administrator was not in the mood for waiting. "Yes ma'am. Should I see to the BLU base first, then?"

"Yes. Make note of it in your action plan. We'll discuss it more tomorrow, but suffice it to say, use of this magic on-base must be curbed. And be sure to see to the RED Medic's concerns. After that phone call you received he's sent notes of increasing intensity with his monthly files."

"He's going to want to know what our solution to the BLU Medic's wings is," Pauling reminded, meekly.

"Just tell him what he wants to hear. Requisition him some extra equipment, appeal to his ego, whatever you need. Placate him and get him to stop bothering me."

"Yes, Administrator."

Helen stood, pressing a button on her console to shut down the monitors and computer. "I'm going home, Miss Pauling. Have a good night, and a happy new year."

"Happy new year, Administrator."

 

***

 

"It's like all they do is have  _ sex _ ," Miss Pauling grumbled, clicking through various video records on her series of monitors. BLU base footage from the past four months played across twelve small screens ringing a larger one, each a different camera, a different day, a different incident for her to observe and make notes of. She practically searched for the mundane infractions. Pyro finger painting in blood with Medic in the infirmary. Demoman and Engineer either setting up impromptu lab equipment or possibly a makeshift still using some tubing and a fifty-five gallon drum. Heavy and Sniper skeet shooting bottles thrown by Scout, using Sascha and the Sydney Sleeper to fire and making a mess of glass, shell casings, and urine along the exterior fence. Spy sneaking over to the RED base to prank the opposing team. Medic's various self-destructive early attempts at flight. But to get to these near-innocent incidents, she had to parse through hours of filth. Casual nudity on-premises, public oral sex, public manual sex, public anal sex, public frottage, public analingus. Mouths and hands and genitals interacted with terrible frequency, and often at the root of it was Scout or Sniper.

When she had recruited the current assortment of teams, Pauling hadn't counted on the entire BLU team being varying degrees of polyamorous. And attracted to one another. Though, she supposed, these infractions were a bit more tolerable and less disruptive than the RED team's more frequent run-ins with law enforcement.

She had already assembled her report for the Administrator, a file folder on the older woman's desk with an action plan involving her inspection visit to the snowy Coldfront base. She had already taken the stills and made the printouts and written her report. All that was left for the evening was writing up the various smaller incident reports from her footage. But in her mind, the most stressful of her work had already been taken care of, and her attention was beginning to waver.

It might have been lack of sleep, simple boredom, or the minor frustration of staying late for yet another New Year's Eve, the third in a row of the three years she'd been working for the company. Either way, she was flagging. She'd hit the wall, and after a time, realized she'd been lingering on the surveillance tapes of various sexual incidents around BLU team's base. She had to make notes on any that didn't occur inside of a bedroom, which left quite a few attributed to Medic and his less-than-sterile infirmary alone, but she found herself more interested in the action onscreen than transcribing exactly what rules they were breaking.

She looked across a few screens, her interest piqued, and she realized perhaps she was feeling a little bit warm. How could she not, watching Demoman fuck Sniper up against a wall with deep, searching kisses traded between them? Or Engineer making slow, easy love to Pyro, who could barely maintain his shape, flames creeping across their bed? Or Heavy and Medic sandwiching Scout between them?

She raised her eyebrow as her gaze swept over the last one, and brought it up on the bigger screen. She clicked the volume on, keeping it quiet, and cast a quick glance over one shoulder to be sure the door was closed.

Scout was moaning loudly, face-to-face with Medic and balls deep inside of him, while Heavy rocked both of their bodies, thrusting into the faun from behind. Medic clutched at Scout's antlers, holding him close, his voice high and strained in his groans. Heavy, meanwhile, had one hand wrapped nearly around the smallest man's hip, the other scratching at the base of his tail, making him wail.

Pauling looked about, as if somehow there was a chance of her being observed. She knew she wasn't. The surveillance rooms were the only ones that lacked any surveillance of their own, and she was always sure to lock and bolt the doors when alone at night. The room had no windows, only small vents to circulate the air. Her attention turned to her watch.

It was quarter-of eleven, and she was several hours overdue for her dinner break, having eaten while working rather than stop when she was on a roll. But now, she'd hit her slump, and hearing Scout's gasps and barks amid Heavy and Medic's groans, she found herself utterly distracted. She tingled between her thighs, and the moisture collecting there had grown very distracting. There was only one thing to do. She jotted down the time on a notepad and kicked her feet up onto the console, having shed her shoes hours ago for the sake of comfort. Pauling spread her legs, bending her knees to brace against the console with her heels, and let a hand wander down to hike up her skirt.

She rubbed idly at her panties, black cotton to match the black cotton of her simple garter belt, and made a thoughtful sound. She could feel the wetness through the fabric. Pauling frowned a bit, having not realized how worked up the footage had been getting her.

It was so strange, to her. She never found herself interested in any of these men. The once-perfect double of the faun being fucked by his teammates had made it nearly a second job to try and obtain her attention and interest. And while it was flattering, and he was never outright rude to her (mostly pathetically showing off or stuttering, with little variation between), she had never found the idea of actually _doing_ anything with him appealing.

Others doing him, however. That was a different story.

Watching Scout arch and keen as Heavy dug his fingers into the base of his wagging tail and scratched with all of his strength, Pauling slipped her fingers through the leg hole of her panties, feeling the wetness within, and tracing the lines of her labia. Her breath grew short, and she teased at herself slowly, spreading her slickness, quiet sighs leaving her nose.

On the screen, Medic had folded himself nearly in half, sitting up as best he could to tug Scout into a kiss. Their tongues clashed sloppily, neither holding position particularly easily, the doctor's hands gripping the faun's antlers white-knuckle tight. His wings spasmed and twitched, reaching up to gently buffet Scout in an attempt to embrace him, petting at his shoulders and sides with their feathered wrists.

The desperate groans of three men mid-coitus filled the small space of the surveillance room and Pauling's ears, her body slouching in her seat as she began to rub her clit, moving in slow circles on her engorged flesh. She sighed, little shocks of pleasure beginning to hum through her amid waves of pleasant heat. Her fingers were small, delicate, and skilled, and like so many times before, worked with efficiency to build pressure inside of her and send sparks up her spine.

It was wrong, and she knew it. Wrong to masturbate at work. On company time. To surveillance footage of her employees.

They knew they were being recorded at all times. It had been an entertaining sticking point early into their first months on-base, always paranoid about being watched, even embarrassed. But after time, they grew to ignore the ever-present cameras and microphones. So they knew their sex was being recorded. They probably didn't know that their immediate supervisor spent her breaks rubbing one out to said recordings sometimes, but she had to wonder if they'd really care.

BLU Scout would certainly hold it over RED Scout as a point of pride, regardless of the faun's considerably lesser interest in her compared to his double. For the sake of keeping the combat contained to the battlefield, it was best they didn't know.

Pauling bucked into her hand, her fingers speeding as the action onscreen shifted. Medic was laying back, arching up, clutching the table as his wings went limp. Scout was snapping his hips roughly into the doctor, propelled by Heavy's rough thrusts that buried himself deep into the faun's furry ass. The giant had pulled Scout up, pressed him belly-to-back against him, and was biting at his neck. One hand splayed across the young man's chest, holding him close, tweaking at one nipple, while the other gripped an antler to tug his head to one side and allow him access. Scout's voice came unmuffled in desperate cries, interspersed with cervine bellows that made Heavy growl against him.

Heavy and Medic had always been a source of entertainment, their sex life rather healthy for men their age, on top of being delightfully kinky at times. Neither had any problem exploring and playing with one another, and when they had brought the young faun, who lusted like a thirst, into their bed and their relationship, it had only become more perverse a show for Pauling to observe.

The teams were not just her responsibility, not just her friends, but were a bit of her soap opera, with added pornography. It didn't hurt that Heavy and Medic seemed to love making a habit of fucking their younger lover into a stupor whenever they could.

And it was working, she observed, her free hand cupping at her breast. Scout had moved from desperate sounds to a kind of dumb crooning, nonsense half-syllables lost amid barks and bellows, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looked up toward the ceiling, near-useless in Heavy's grasp were it not for his bucking hips driving into a rapidly unraveling Medic. Livid, red ovals dotted Scout's neck where Heavy had sucked blood to his skin and bit hard, bruising and marking him.

Pauling bit at her lip, watching Scout's cock disappear into Medic, Heavy's cock into Scout, these men filling one another and being filled. Her hand moved less in circles and more in a jerking back and forth motion, fingers curling to rub at her hot clit, thick with arousal and so sensitive.

Medic was the first to finish, his wings spreading out at his sides and knocking the clock off of their nightstand as he crooned, digging his head into the mattress and clutching his forehead with one hand, the other tugging at his cock needily. Come shot over his hand, his belly, his chest, milking himself out for a series of spurts that left him sweating and gulping for air when he came down, Scout still ramming into him and making him yelp and jolt.

Pauling didn't last much longer, clenching her teeth as she shook through her climax, her fingers slowing to coax the orgasm along and draw it out. She shuddered, her legs shaking, her shoulders going stiff as rough waves rolled through her amid the clenching of her insides, rippling contractions of her pelvic floor that chased more heat and delightful pressure up through her. Idly, she wished she'd summoned up a toy to penetrate herself with, just to make the most of those clenches.

On the screen, Heavy and Scout came with her, the faun doubling over Medic as he filled him with his seed, lowing and bellowing and crying out desperately as the giant inside of him slammed him with all of his might. He forced his orgasm out with a groan, emptying himself into Scout's ass and gripping him tight as the faun shuddered and whined, overstimulated between his lovers.

Slumping into her chair, Pauling idly let her fingers dance around her pussy, satisfied and sensitive. With a sigh, she withdrew her hand and looked at her digits, slippery with her own fluids. She smiled, the afterglow energizing her, and she began to move her clean hand about in a few simple motions. The magic in the air was sparse within TFI's base, but enough to cast without issue. She tugged strands loose and wove them into a simple spell, sparkles of purple following her fingertips. "Actum Tergeo," she invoked, completing the spell.

Light engulfed Pauling, a shimmer of purple that dispersed and dissipated as quickly as it arrived, leaving her feeling fresher, lighter, her hand completely clean of excess fluids. Closing her legs, she found her panties dry and the mess within them tidied, and she returned her feet to the floor, sitting up. She stretched in her chair, lifting her arms above her head, and looked back to her watch. Pauling noted that fifteen minutes had passed, and she marked it out on her notepad for later input into the punch clock's records.

"Time to get back to work," she mumbled, straightening her shirt and tapping some commands into the console, bringing up a fresh array of footage to the screens, and grabbed her clipboard and pencil. She had a lot to get through before the end of the night, especially if she was going to get enough sleep to meet with the Administrator in the morning and still remain coherent enough to work the rest of the day. Pauling tried to put her to-do list out of her mind and focus on the now. "August thirteenth, Soldier threw a rotten head into reservoir. Again," she muttered, scribbling down her report of the incident onscreen.


	2. Chapter 2

"Spatz!" Medic cried, throwing open the door to Scout's quarters. He began to chuckle at the sight of his lover's furry bottom peeking out from under his bed, his tail suddenly curling up in alarm, exposing its fluffy white underside.

"Doc?" came Scout's muffled voice, followed by his tail beginning to wag. He shuffled a bit, trying to tug himself out from under the bed, only to slip and flop onto his belly. "Ow!"

"Are you alright?" the doctor asked, entering the room and rounding on the prone faun. The room was already a mess, Scout having been in the middle of unpacking, his bureau drawers open and half-loaded with clothing both uniform and casual, sweaters strewn about his bed, ready to be folded.

"Yeah, I just—" Scout shuffled a bit, pulling himself back onto his knees but no further from leaving his place beneath the bed. "You kinda scared the shit outta me an' I kinda jumped an' now I'm kinda stuck."

"Stuck?"  
Scout sighed, loudly, embarrassed. "I, uh, my antlers are sorta caught in the box spring."

Medic's eyes went wide. "Oh! I—ah, oops?" He sat gently at the edge of the bed, and it made Scout yelp, so he quickly stood. "Oh, yes. Sorry."

"Any chance you could help me get outta here?"

"Well, I suppose I could climb under und try to help extricate you. Or I could just fetch mein bonesaw und medigun. We could have you free in no time!" The garuda peeked under the bed, a wide grin on his too-white teeth.

Scout's heart began to race. How could this lunatic be so damned handsome and attractive and so utterly terrifying at once? The best part was that he was utterly sure Medic was not kidding in the slightest. "Uh, how about we do the thing that don't involve cuttin' through my bones? I'd kinda like at least a proper kiss an' hello before you go sawin' stuff offa me, babe."

"Oh, ja, of course. How silly of me!" Medic slipped beneath the bed a moment and inspected the situation. Scout's antlers were wedged in and between the slats of the box spring, a few points digging deep into the wood. It would take some serious maneuvering, which seemed heavily unlikely given their position. "Will you be alright here for a moment or two more?"

"What? Sure, why?"

"I am going to need Heavy on this one."

" _What?_ "

"Just, stay here. Und do not struggle too much. It might make it worse." Medic slipped out from under the bed and stood, clapping the dust off of his pants.

"Doc?!"

"Don't worry, Spatz. We'll free you," the German assured his lover, patting him reassuringly on his furry bottom. His boots clicked on the concrete floor as he strode out of the room with purpose.

 

***

 

"It's not so terrible," Spy chuckled as Pyro shuffled about, trying to find the source of the cold breeze slipping into the rec room. It was coming from somewhere, and the likely culprits—the windows—had not turned out to be the cause.

The djinni tossed Spy a blank stare through his gas mask, and Spy knew it that behind it was a withering look. He stood from his crouch in the corner and straightened the jumper he wore over his chemsuit. "Says you. You're from a temperate climate."

"I am from every climate. I've traveled more than enough to have very little preference."

"Yeah, well I tend to stick to deserts, I don't know if you've noticed." Pyro crossed his arms and scanned the room, then bolted off toward the couch, spying movement along the ruffled fabric that ringed the base of its ratty covering.

"That's not my fault. Though, really, how can you even _be_ cold? You are literally made of fire!"

"I don't produce heat like a fire, I produce it like a normal living creature," Pyro mumbled, climbing down onto all fours and peeking around the couch. He removed a glove and began checking for that draft he was sure he'd seen. "Unless I want to."

"You don't want to?"

"It's not like an easy thing, it's like flexing a muscle. You try flexing all day every day!"

"Scout certainly makes the attempt," Spy laughed, plucking a cigarette from his case.

"And that doesn't get him too far, does it?" the djinni shot back, then stopped. "Aha! It's coming up between these boards here!"

"Ugh, finally. This place is full of gaps and cracks. Gods forbid these bases receive any regular maintenance not provided by the teams themselves." Spy lit his cigarette with a snap of his fingers and watched Pyro work.

The djinni smoothed his hands over the crack and muttered some ancient syllables, caressing the wood carefully and coaxing magic into it. A warm orange glow hummed through its fibres, and filled the gap like an uninflated soap bubble. He rubbed the wood from either side, urging it to shape and morph in his grasp, closing the gap as he sculpted the floorboards like clay.

Spy didn't understand the tongue he used to cast, but he knew a woodwarping spell when he saw one, and admired Pyro's mastery. It had been a long time since spirits sculpted trees and buildings with magic in his homeland, whole homes and hidden villages crafted of living bamboo and cedar, and it brought a nostalgic pang to his heart.

"At least they keep respawn working. We can keep the bases fixed so long as they make sure the machinery runs," Pyro replied, dismissing his spell and standing. He clapped dust off of his chemsuit and tugged his glove back on.

"You sound like Engineer," Spy chuckled.

"He's got a tendency to rub off on you."

"I'm sure he's done a lot of rubbing off on you, mon ami."

Pyro shoved Spy lightly, shaking his head as the kitsune laughed all the harder at his reaction.

 

***

 

Engineer mumbled to himself, making notes on a sheet of printed data with a pencil. The paper was a long ribbon of zig-zagging pages lined with holes, bearing teleporter data. Thus far everyone had arrived safely on-base with their equipment, but the larger shipment of his own extra machinery had yet to arrive.

The room where the base's external teleporter sat was large, filled with computers and databanks, consoles of all types littering the area. Much of it was simple surveillance and records, but several machines made up the user-end controls for the base's respawn, communications, and transport systems. Situated so far up in the mountains, Coldfront was only accessible via helicopter or teleporter, and unpredictable weather made the latter a more appealing option.

At one end of the room, a large platform sat above a pair of arms mounted at a center point. It was a large scale version of the portable teleporters Engineer used in his work, and was, in essence, the base's freight elevator of sorts.

Engineer flopped down into a rolling office chair behind a console, scratching at his temple with the eraser of his pencil. The records showed no additional teleportations other than the personnel and equipment already accounted for.

"Clean report?" Sniper asked, leaning against the same console, arms crossed over his chest. He was swaddled in a massive jumper stitched with designs depicting dogs playing, a Smissmas gift from Demoman's mum. A long, fringed scarf was wrapped around his long neck.

"Yep. Which means the shipment's plain late. Not sure whether that's better or worse."

"What's worse is I know you're not going to settle in and relax while you wait," Sniper chuckled.

"Damn right I ain't!" Engineer groused, dropping his printout and pencil. "How the hell am I supposed to get thing one done around here without my gear set up? It's holdin' up the whole process! You gotta do this kinda thing in order or everything else'll be in my way when I'm tryin' to work!"

Sniper smirked. The Texan was so particular about his workshops. They were only ever really well organized for the first week or so, but by that point he'd have settled into his rhythm and be comfortable enough to improvise. It never quite reached the controlled chaos of Medic's infirmary, but his workshops were nonetheless known for being largely unnavigable while Engineer was at work inside. "Well, barkin' like a pooch what spied a cat through the screen door's going to do you no good, mate."

With a laboured sigh, Engineer slumped in his chair. "You got that right, Slim."

"Wanna head over to mess? Demo said 'e was off to make cocoa and toast. Plus, we brought in a flask of peppermint schnapps if you want a bit of a kick," the Australian offered. "Warm you up something fierce. Dunno about you, but I'm freezin' my arse off."

"You gotta have an ass first, son," Engineer joked, leaning back in his seat.

"Got you for a friend. That count?"

They shared a chuckle. "Well I am freezin' so I guess so, don't it?"

"Bloody snow and ice. Feel like I'm about to rattle my bones into powder," the Australian groused, dropping into a rolling chair and curling in on himself, a ball of lanky limbs trying to compress together for warmth.

"We just ain't made for this," Engineer agreed, tucking his flesh-and-blood hand into the sleeve of his jacket, a thick, brown canvas thing stuffed with down. "Betcha Heavy's in 'is glory, though."

Sniper chuckled at that. "He could probably walk 'round naked and not notice it."

"You and I both know that's more Soldier's thing."

 

***

 

"Toast."

"Aye."

"In cocoa."

"Aye. Stop givin' me that look, it's delicious!"

Soldier regarded Demoman with a skeptical look. Or at least what Demoman assumed was skeptical, since the American's eyes and brow were obscured by his helmet. "Buttered toast is for dipping in eggs."

The Scot frowned, picking up a bag of marshmallows from the counter. "Buttered toast is for dippin' in whatever is delicious!" He dug a finger into the bag's stretchy plastic, wiggling it to carve a hole through with his nail. A second finger joined it as it slipped into the hole and stretched the ragged plastic open, then his thumb followed. He rooted around inside the bag and withdrew a marshmallow. "So how was yer Smissmas, then?"

With a frown, Soldier stared through his helmet at Demoman, his meager field of vision occupied by broad, brown hands digging out marshmallows and dropping them in the three mugs of cocoa he'd prepared,which sat steaming on the counter. "I had tomato soup for dinner. Then I got bored and ordered one of everything off of the menu at the Chinese restaurant down the street and slowly consumed it over five days. I learned that rice gets crunchy very quickly."

Demoman froze. He'd completely forgotten that Soldier had no family, no loved ones, aside from the team themselves. The one person he'd really truly had to care about was hired to kill him. All at once, the bomber felt like the lowest person on Earth. "I, er, sorry. I shouldnae've brought it up."

"Thanks," Soldier mumbled, turning his gaze downward. "It's okay. Means you care."

"I do, ye ken," Demoman smiled, and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Yer me friend, Soldier." How strange it must be for the dullahan, to have a friend like him. He looked and sounded exactly like the man he'd loved enough to violate his contract over. He'd risked everything for the bomber's red-clad twin. It made Demoman wonder, often, whether it was better or worse for Soldier to be around him, to be friends. Did it make his heart ache worse, or did it soothe him to at least have the familiarity of conversation and contact, even if they were different men with different feelings?

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose Sniper, only to strike up a friendship with his counterpart on RED. It couldn't be the same, no matter what, but he doubted it'd hurt any less to see a face he found so handsome and loved so deeply, only for his beautiful smile to creep across his lips in camaraderie, not tenderness.

Soldier smiled, nonetheless, and returned the gesture with perhaps a little more pressure than necessary. "So what did you and your kangaroo wife do?"

"Kangaroo wife?" Demoman laughed, setting the marshmallows down on the counter. "Och, I'll have tae start slippin' that one in when he's not payin' attention!" He shook his head, "But aye we had a good time. Spent it together at me place out in the Badlands. Introduced him tae Mum an' all that."

"How'd she like him?"

"Oh, she loved him! Once she found out he was a hired killer, and all his 'professional' shite she was up me arse the rest o' the bloody time about presentin' meself better for work. Still haven't forgiven him for it," the Scot laughed. "He fits in well."

"Are you going to visit his family next year?" Soldier asked with a grin.

"Ye kiddin' me? Mickey barely wants tae visit 'em tae begin with, let alone bringin' his _black_ bloody _boyfriend_ what happens tae be a _werewolf_ with him!" He picked a mug up from the counter and took a careful sip, then licked the marshmallowy cocoa foam from his moustache. "So, aye, probably. If only tae stick it tae his da how happy he is doin' what he wants. Also, he told his mum everythin' and she wants tae meet me. Also tae see me werewolf form so she can, in her words, 'scratch his precious ears'. Bless her heart."

Solider chuckled at that, the mental image of Sniper's tiny, sweet mother gently petting the bowed head of a massive one-eyed werewolf cuter than he cared to admit to himself. "If you can sit still long enough."

"And not eat their entire herd o' sheep," Demoman grinned.

 

***

 

Heavy hefted the mattress from Scout's bed with little effort, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. His boyfriends were complete idiots. Adorable idiots, but idiots nonetheless.

"Alright, so what we will do is Heavy will lift the box spring, and you will have to follow it up—"

"I ain't got much of a choice there, Doc."

"—so that you can get enough space and leverage that we can work you free," Medic finished with clipped annoyance. He knelt beside his youngest lover, his hand rubbing slow circles on the faun's lower back.

"Yeah, okay," Scout replied, defeated.

"Why were you under bed without hiding antlers?" Heavy asked, inspecting Scout's placement beneath the bed and trying to figure out the best angle to go about this.

"I dropped one 'a my bottles 'a lube when I was packin' my nightstand," the faun explained, wiggling a bit as Medic's hand strayed to the swell of his furry bottom and squeezed. "Mmm, do that more, Doc."

"Let us get you free, und I will play with your Arsch all you like, Schatz," the doctor laughed. He moved to the base of Scout's tail and scratched at the sensitive spot, his nails parting fur to dig in at his skin gently.

Scout moaned, arching up into the touch, his tail wagging. "Well, I mean, this don't hurt or nothin'. An' we got all day to unpack, yanno?" He hummed a soft whine. "An' I already got my bare ass in the air."

"You are saying you want sex _now_?" Heavy asked, rounding the bed to see what Medic was doing to the faun. "With head stuck in bed?"

"I ain't seen you guys in so long. An' I mean, I still ain't _seen_ you, but I can hear you, an' feel you, an' I miss you so much an' god _damnit Doc_ you're killin' me back there," Scout hissed, arching up into the touch, lifting his hips and presenting his ass for both men. Heat was welling between his thighs, and he could feel his arousal beginning to wake.

Heavy chuckled, watching Medic pick up speed with his scratches and make Scout whimper. "Miss you too, little Scout."

"Then come on. It'll be hot. Some kinda scene, right? You got me right where you want me, and there ain't nothin' I can do about it. I'm at your mercy. You can have your way with me while I'm stuck here," Scout encouraged, his voice growing thicker, breathier as he tried to justify his desire. "I'm your prisoner."

"You truly can make anything sexy, Vogelchen," Medic hummed, his hand sliding down the curve of the faun's furry ass to tease down the length of his taint and cup his balls, hanging pendulously and coated in soft, velvety fuzz. They were hot in the garuda's hand, a comfortable weight, and he rolled them gently in his palm.

Scout gasped, his legs tensing as the gentle pleasure washed through him. It had been so, so long since he'd had sex. Heavy and Medic had helped him prepare before the furlough, but now, with his lover's hand rocking his balls so lovingly, it was like an eyedropper of water after being lost in the desert for a month. He needed them. "Oh God, please. Please, please, now please," he begged, his cock hard between his thighs.

Medic looked to Heavy, who laughed quietly. How could they deny him, since he was asking so nicely. The giant knelt beside Scout's exposed backside and groped at his furry ass.

"Oh God yesssss..."

"Is good ass. Can do anything we want with it," Heavy teased, slipping a finger between Scout's cheeks to rub gently at his hole. He grinned at Scout's gasp, and pressed a little harder. "He is ours to play with."

"Mmm, so he is. And he can't do a thing about it," Medic hummed, letting some stray fingers pet at the underside of Scout's dick. "Though I fear if we make him wait, he may not be able to handle it. He is weak from hunger."

"Hunger for us?" the giant asked, knowing full well the answer. "Hungry for kek?"

"Of course," Medic grinned.

"Is too bad he is trapped. Cannot feed him properly. Unless we get bottle, or jar."

Scout let out a moan at the thought, of being held down by the two older men and forced to drink their come from a glass.

"We will just have to make sure to take good care of him once he is free, mein Kuschelbär," Medic teased, rubbing slow circles at Scout's frenulum, carefully urging his foreskin the rest of the way back with dextrous fingertips. "But meanwhile, perhaps we can fill him up with what he needs another way? Perhaps a suppository?"

Scout was too turned on to care about the doctor's awful jokes. A quiet gasp and hips stuttering into that gentle hand were all he could really provide, coasting along on sensation and desire, the teasing at his cock and ass not enough to slake his thirst, but to wet his tongue, and he craved more.

"This is good. And like tiny Scout said, he cannot move. Is at our mercy. So we must be merciful, da?" There was a shift behind Scout, and the sound of his nightstand being opened and rooted around in. A plastic popping sound, and then suddenly the warm finger against his hole was replaced by a cold, wet fingertip, which began to push inside, wiggling at it went.

A breathy moan came from beneath the bed, rattling through metal springs. Scout arched into the touch, spreading his thighs, bracing himself as Heavy slipped further into him, urging him open, slicking his inside, sending sparks to the faun's groin and dancing through his abdomen. His legs twitched, cock hot and beginning to throb as he was filled with the giant's thick digit, pressing deeper, deeper, until he felt knuckles meet the furry cheek of his ass and let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd begun holding.

Heavy began to slowly thrust that finger.

"Ja, we can have him as much as we like," the garuda fairly growled, pressing bodily against Scout's hip, rubbing his trouser-clad erection against the faun's furry side as he shook from Heavy's movements. His hand left Scout's cock, coming up to tease at the base of his tail once again. "However we like. He cannot do a thing to stop us."

"Would Doktor like tiny Scout first?" Heavy asked, raising his voice just slightly over Scout's litany of whimpers and whines beneath the bed.

"Mmm, I think I would; danke."

A second wet finger began to work its way into Scout, just as thick, just as amazing as the first. Heavy carefully stretched him with scissoring fingers, relaxing his tense muscles, building heat in his gut and chasing sighs of pleasure from him. "Does little Scout like this?"

"Mmmh," the faun hummed, wishing he could lay his head on the floor and relax into the sensation, stuck instead hanging half-limp from his antlers trapped in the wood and springs above him. "Yeah."

"Horosho," the half-jotun grinned, slipping his fingers slowly free. He scooted aside, allowing Medic to move to take his place, the sound of rumpling fabric and belts telling Scout his sudden emptiness wouldn't last. Before he knew it, he was being entered by the cool slickness and insistent heat of Medic's cock, pushing in until their hips collided.

Scout nearly yowled, his moan high and jubilant, tail wagging as Medic filled him up. His breath came short, excited, and he clenched rhythmically around the garuda's cock.

Medic's wings stretched open wide, a manic grin on his face as he gazed down at the eager ass presented for him, stuffed with his cock and ready for use. He adored how much Scout just loved to be their fuck hole, a feeling he himself often indulged in. The faun's ass was hot around him, rippling as he clenched, practically hugging his cock, begging silently for more, welcoming him into the slippery tightness of his body with needful squeezes. It nearly made Medic dizzy. "You feel so good, Spatz. Mein kleine Hirschjunge."

German never sounded hotter than when it was moaned in the garuda's perfect tenor. "God, so do you," Scout replied, his voice catching, strained. He rolled his hips, urging Medic to move, to fuck him, and when the doctor chuckled and complied, his begging gained volume. "Shit! Yeah, like that! Fuck me, Doc!" he groaned, heat and pressure bolting through him in ecstatic blooms. Medic drew back and plunged in, over and over, filling him with increasing speed.

There was no slow, easy adjustment, no beginning pace to allow the faun to get used to the intrusion in his ass. They had all been apart for far too long for such formalities; no patience to be found in a gradual build, in drawing it out. Scout needed to be fucked, and Medic needed to fuck him, so he did, hips slapping against furry ass, driving his lube-slick cock into the faun repeatedly.

Heavy grinned as he watched Medic take their younger lover, the slim athlete half-trapped beneath the bed. They both missed Scout so much. Missed his voice, his touch, his smile, his body, and his company. Their bed seemed colder without the faun to warm it every so often, nestled in their embrace. The giant undid his belt and fly, taking his cock out to stroke. Scout's voice was louder now, eager moans muffled but not muted by the bed atop him, forced from him by the winged doctor's hungry pounding. Heavy was eager for his turn.

Scout bit his lip, trying to hold himself back. Medic stretched him open, filled him, blazed heat and need through his insides, searing into him and quenching his thirst. He felt alive, like colour and light had come back to his world. His muscles trembled, his body thrummed with energy, and with each ingress, he slipped closer to the edge. He hissed his breaths between his teeth, clenching his pelvic floor, trying to gain control, to stay his orgasm that he could feel sprinting after him with determination. He hadn't even touched his dick, hands clenched into fists on the concrete floor. But Medic shocked pure ecstasy up his spine and pumped pressure into his gut, and he felt ready to burst.

He could come without being touched, but he didn't want to. Pitching onto one forearm, he slipped one hand beneath himself, between his legs, and grasped the hot, aching length of his cock. He took rough hold and tugged at himself in time with his oldest lover's thrusts, hard and hungry.

When Scout came it was with a cervine bellow, a sound frayed at its edges with desperation and elation, breathy and undone. He clenched around Medic's cock inside him, which did not still, did not slow, the doctor still pounding away at his ass as he angled to ram into the faun's prostate and milk the seed from him, which splattered to the floor and across his hand.

He brought his soiled hand up to his mouth and licked it clean, half-realizing his lovers couldn't see this display, but half-uncaring, too wound up in his own arousal to really mind. He tasted somewhat bitter, and a bit less salty than usual; perhaps the result of not eating on-base for so long. He let the thick fluid linger on his lips, moaning around his fingers as Medic bucked into him with increased vigor.

He was hammering into Scout, his breath rough, his groans loud, unbridled. The clap of flesh to fur filled the room as the doctor's hips flexed and worked, balls slapping the faun's taint over and over until finally, he stalled out in him. A keen left Medic's throat as he emptied himself into his lover, heat blooming inside of Scout.

Medic sagged when at last he had spent himself into the faun, his balls drawn tight against himself in the cold and the wake of his orgasm. He pet at Scout's hips, then bent forward to hug him tightly before slipping out with a groan. "How are you, Vogelchen?"

"Hnnnn," Scout moaned, his tail coming to a standstill, still curled up to show its snowy underside. Lubricant and slowly leaking come slicked his hole, and the white fur surrounding it.

"Still hungry?" Heavy asked, one broad hand slipping up to cup at the faun's furry ass, lubed-up finger prodding shallowly at his used hole.

"Always hungry for you, big guy," came the younger man's breathless reply, clenching gently around the giant's fingertip before it was pulled free.

A growl rumbled through Heavy's chest. "Am glad, because have nice, big second course for tiny Scout." He switched spots with Medic, letting the garuda tug his trousers up and slump to the cold floor. A generous amount of lube later, and his chilled, yet wonderfully hot cockhead was pressed where his finger had just been.

From beneath the bed, a hiss came, chased by a bellow as Heavy pushed further in, stretching Scout wider, further, opening him up beyond what two fingers or Medic's cock could provide. Heavy was a giant in every sense, and Scout was being gladly reminded of that fact.

It had been too long since he'd felt the comfortable thickness of the Russian inside of him, stretching and filling him just right. He belonged there, the faun fancied. He gasped and reached up, clutching the wooden slats of the box spring as Heavy slid in to the root, the way made extra slick by Medic's come inside of him. When the half-jotun stalled, Scout began to pant, his breath short and erratic.

"Doktor, you were right. Tiny Scout feels perfect," Heavy groaned, relishing the feel of his lover's body. Massive hands roved furry hips and smooth lower back, one sneaking up to tug gently at the fur at the base of Scout's tail, earning a bark of pleasure in response.

"It makes me want to never stop fucking him," Medic grinned, watching, red-faced, from the side. Seeing Heavy, in all of his massive might, enter anyone was always a lurid treat. Doubly so when that someone was their slim little lover. Scout wasn't a short man, but he was slight, with a small, tight ass that looked almost painfully tiny in the giant's hands, with the giant's cock deep inside of it.

"Let us never stop," the Russian replied with a grin. He pulled back then bucked in, making the faun yowl.

"Please," Scout gasped, his fingers digging into the wooden slats of the box spring, his ass throbbing with sensation. Heavy leaned in, and the faun could feel the giant pressing down on his prostate, a weighty throb of pleasure rolling through him. "Don't stop."

Heavy obeyed, and began to snap his hips, setting a quick, rough pace. He allowed no further adjustment, Scout's breathless plea enough for spur him onward. The faun had been stretched and prepared by Medic fucking him, so the way was easy for Heavy to open him further, his cock thick and hot inside of the desperate young man. The bed rattled with each thrust, rocking Scout bodily as he drove deep into him, wrenching cries from him. The giant took his lover, filling him with his cock, making him his, giving him what he so utterly craved.

He was tight, slippery, and felt like he belonged around Heavy's cock, just like Medic belonged there. The giant groaned, his eyes slipping closed as he let the heat and closeness take him, his hips slapping soft fur as his massive hands gripped Scout's waist for stability. He wished he could see the faun's face screwed up with pleasure. He knew the look well: buck teeth digging into pink lips, freckled cheeks crushed up against narrowed, barely-open cerulean eyes wet with physical devastation. He would be blushing from his nose to the tips of his ears, halfway down his chest, sexy and adorable all at once.

Heavy moaned and kicked up his pace, slamming into Scout with force. It had been too long since he'd seen Scout, since he'd touched Scout. He wanted to make love to Scout, but more, he wanted to fuck Scout. The faun begged, his voice hoarse between sharp barks and wavering bellows, pleading with Heavy for more.

"Fuck me! Please! Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_! I need it! I need you, big guy! Fuck my ass, come on!" Scout rambled, his words strained as Heavy did exactly what he was told. He wanted more, needed more, always more. He needed Heavy to ravage his ass and fill him with come, the same as Medic had. He needed both of them so badly. His hands shook, clutching the wooden slats like a lifeline, and he mildly regretted not letting the older men free him before taking him. He wanted them both together, to taste them, to feel them, to be held and to hold, and to see their lust-drunk faces as they rode their way to orgasm together.

Instead, he pictured Heavy's face as he fucked him: teeth grit, eyes shut, nostrils flared, and that beautiful back flexing with each movement, his little ass clenching with each thrust. He imagine Medic watching with lust-glazed eyes, blushing like a maniac, his hair tousled just enough to show he'd been up to no good. They were beautiful, and he knew it, and he felt it, because right now what Heavy was doing to him was utterly gorgeous.

His second orgasm crept up on him with less of a flourish, a simple keen and flurry of clenches being all of the pomp and circumstance it needed as he shot his seed onto the concrete floor, his cock untouched.

Heavy groaned in reply, fucking him through his orgasm, his breath growing more erratic as those clenches tugged at him, milking him closer to orgasm. Scout leaked after he came, cloudy-clear fluid weeping from his slit as Heavy abused his prostate with impunity. It made hot throbs ripple through his cock, and his whole body felt electric and hot, like an übercharge. Heavy hammered into him with hard, vicious thrusts, growing less precise, more frenzied, and Scout could feel it the second the giant tipped over the edge and came inside of him with a muted roar, emptying his balls into the faun's ass with a series of throbs. It made Scout bellow over again as Heavy stalled in him, heat spreading inside of him as the giant filled him with his seed, shuddering.

They stayed together like that for a few moments, Scout shivering in a mix of sensation and the chill of the room seeping into him. Heavy bowed over his lover, bracing himself with one hand on the bed, petting at his furry hip with the other.

A crack rang out from under the bed and Scout yelped. The wood was breaking! Another crack, and then finally a loud snap followed, and the slat of the box spring that the faun was clinging to gave way and broke off of the bed, sending him slapping chest-first to the concrete floor with a groan.

"Little Scout, are you okay?" Heavy asked, hurriedly pulling out and peeking under the bed to see.

Scout laid on the floor, his cheek against the concrete, looking utterly done. Wooden splinters had fallen all around him, and his antlers were free, a few points spearing torn fabric and chunks of wood. "Welp, good news is, I'm outta the bed. Bad news: I need a new bed."

Heavy lifted the bed aside and gathered Scout from beneath it, pulling him into his and Medic's arms. He laughed and kissed the faun, who turned and kissed Medic in turn.

"We will just have to make sure you never need to sleep alone while we are here, then," the doctor grinned, squeezing his youngest lover tightly.

 

***

 

"All I'm askin' is if there's a chance, mate," Sniper shrugged, giving Engineer his friendliest grin.

The Texan regarded his friend for a long, silent moment. The darkened lenses of his goggles caught the fluorescent light in a way that made Sniper wonder if he knew he was doing that. Finally, he crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and leaned forward. "Fucked yourself through the rest of the monsters on the team, so you figured you'd finish the circuit?"

"Mate, the rest of the team is monsters, so isn't that a mite redundant?"

"Heavy's only half-monster," Engineer reasoned.

"Only half-human, too," the bushman replied with a smirk. "Besides, I dunno how much I wanna count that, since we were both shaggin' Medic."

"Your dicks touched, didn't they?"

"Well, yeh, inside the doc—"

"Then I'd say it counts," the Texan chuckled. He leaned back in his seat again, throwing one arm over the back of the chair. "Look, it's like this, Slim. Me an' Pyro, we're—it's different, you know? I used to get it on the side because he told me to, 'cause of the whole suit thing. Now that we stopped bein' a pair of idiots about all that, it's not the same."

"If you aren't open anymore, I'm not goin' to be a prick about it, don't worry," Sniper replied, holding his hands up in surrender. "Figured I'd ask, though. I didn't know if 'e'd be interested, didn't want to be rude comin' up and askin' 'im blind. It's why I asked about the situation."

"It's alright, partner. It's all kinda touch-and-go right now. Lots of newness all at once. But, look, I'll talk to 'im. That's just how I see it. Maybe 'e's on a different page."

"Alright," Sniper smiled, tipping his hat a bit in thanks. "So speakin' of weird situations, what's goin' on with you and Scout?"

"Ugh," the Texan slumped in his chair, uncrossing his legs. "I don't even know. I got it all kindsa messed up. Before Thanksgiving I tried to apologise, but then I messed that up all sorts of bad. The kid kept avoidin' me all through December, too."

"This can't go on forever, mate. And Scout didn't do anythin' wrong. Plus 'e holds a grudge fiercer'n anyone outside the DeGroot family."

Engineer swept the sheepskin aviator's hat he was wearing from his head and scratched at his scalp, newly adorned with short, blond growth. "I know, I know. But at this point I done so much damage and let it go on so long I don't even know how to go about makin' up for it."

Sniper cocked an eyebrow at Engineer's hair, what little there was. He'd never seen the man without his dome shorn clean. Its colour was no surprise; he'd showered with the man, after all, not to mention the time the two of them had fucked Scout together. But hair atop Engineer's head was a bit of a novelty, and Sniper wondered if he'd stopped shaving in the hopes of getting a bit more insulation against the cold. "You gotta think of something, mate. 'e's proper furious with you. Which don't help 'im none, either, that sort of conflict."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Texan asked, pulling his hat back down atop his head.

"Look, you didn't hear anythin' from me, but it's not like 'e _wants_ to be mad at you. 'e likes you, thinks the world of you. Before all of this 'appened? 'e looked up to you, mate. You're the smartest bloke on this team and you never treated 'im like 'e was a stupid kid. Not even at the beginning when we were all being arses to each other and swingin' our dicks for rank." Sniper sighed. "But like I said. You didn't hear anythin' from me. I keep secrets, even when it's in everyone's best interest if I don't. Professional."

Engineer regarded Sniper with a skeptical look at the blatant lie. Sometimes it was easy to forget the man was trained to observe and understand people just as much as Spy did, but put it to use differently.

After a moment of silence, being stared down by his friend, Sniper sniffed and cast his gaze to the ceiling. "Maybe it might be more'n just sex, too."

Engineer took a deep breath and slouched forward in his seat. He tugged his goggles down to his neck and scrubbed his palms over his face. More? Scout had told him it was just friendly fun. He had been worried at the time that the young man could handle a relationship like that. He'd been promised it was fine. Had he done more than just offended his friend? Had he broken the poor kid's heart? "Seriously? What about Heavy and Medic?"

"Scout's got a lot of feelings in a lot of different directions. Lots more since 'e became a faun. Fauns are heavily polyamorous creatures by nature. Typically keep a stable of partners they love fiercely, called Revels. Not to say they're in love with everyone they shag. But when they do love it's _intense_."

"How in the hell do you know so much about the kid?" Engineer groused, steepling his fingers over his nose and dragging his palms over his face.

"I listen," Sniper shrugged. "Something 'e liked about you, but you've not done for months."

A heavy breath left the Texan's nose. "Well, shit."

A sudden noise startled both mercenaries, machinery whirring to life and consoles humming as the teleporter began to turn. The arms beneath the platform swung in wide arcs, swooshing through the air and sending breezes through the room, disturbing Engineer's paperwork. Both men stood to see what was going on as the teleporter arms reached speed and a white flash streaked from the platform to the ceiling. When it was gone and the spots began to retreat from the mercenaries' eyes, they were startled to see Miss Pauling standing atop the platform holding a briefcase, her skirt reaching her ankles, heavy water-proof boots on her feet, and a heavy, purple coat lined with black fur nearly overtaking her miniscule frame, making it look like a rather posh wolverine had given up on mauling her halfway through.

She tugged the hood of her coat back, reaching a hand to smooth her mussed hair and regarded the two mercenaries, who stood at attention at the sudden arrival. She quirked an eyebrow. "Um, at ease, guys."

Engineer and Sniper looked to one another, realized what they were doing, and relaxed their postures, though not their nerves. The boss suddenly showing up was cause for alarm no matter what.

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss Pauling, but ain't you a bit early for inspection? We're still settin' up the base. All the equipment ain't even on site yet," Engineer asked, putting on his friendliest smile as Sniper nodded.

"The Administrator wanted me here today. We have a lot to go over, not just with the reassignment but also with some changes that have happened recently," Pauling replied, fishing her clipboard from her coat. "In particular, I need to talk to Medic. Engie, you're with me. Sniper, go let everyone know I'm here. When I finish my sweep of the base and take stock of equipment and repairs, I want the team in the briefing room."

Sniper straightened, nodded, and mumbled a, "Yes, Miss," as he quickly made his egress. Miss Pauling was a friendly, agreeable woman, but she was all about business over pleasantries. Doubly so when The Administrator had sent her there with an axe to grind.


	3. Chapter 3

Engineer opened the door for Miss Pauling as she strode into the conference room to see the rest of the team already assembled, a sea of blue uniforms, scarfs, jackets, hats, and monstrous anatomy. Sniper, Demoman, and Soldier each had a stack of buttered toast triangles and a mug of marshmallowy cocoa they were dipping the toast into. Scout and Medic both had moist hair, likely fresh from the shower. Heavy sat between them with his arms crossed over his chest, a peaceful smile playing at his lips. Pyro had a piece of paper on the table in front of him, a set of worn-down crayons scattered around it as he worked, doodling to amuse himself. He was drawing what looked like himself as a pink-furred unicorn-centaur. Spy had his tails curled around himself like a fur coat as he sat smoking at the furthest end of the table, sparing the occasional glance out of the room's large, ice-rimed windows at the snow outside.

All of the men came to attention when they caught sight of their purple-clad supervisor, sitting up in their seats and dropping whatever they were doing. All eyes, one brown, two hidden behind darkened lenses, and a field of blue in various hues, were all on her.

She came to a halt at the center of their vision, standing in front of a projector screen which was pulled down in front of a disused chalkboard, ghosts of strategies past haunting the green slate in eerie white whorls. Pauling set the briefcase down on the end of the table and regarded the team one last time in silence before popping open its clasps with a clack and lifting its lid. She pulled a set of nine manilla folders from the case, each labeled with class title and emblem, and passed them to Engineer to hand out. The Texan did as expected, then found his way to his seat, opening his own folder.

"Team, it's the start of a new year, and with the base transfer, it's time for an inspection. I'm here under the auspices of Builder's League United to brief you on the status of your contracts as well as keep you updated on any operational changes. I've already had a look at the base itself, noted the condition it was found in, and any repairs that need to be commissioned. The respawn and teleporter systems are in perfect order, as are the feedback computers for score-keeping and relaying data to corporate. If there have been any repairs or alterations made between your arrival on base and my inspection, submit the usual paperwork and your contribution will be noted in your record and you will be compensated on not this coming paycheck, but the check following. Pyro, Engie, you know how it goes." Pauling continued to rattle off her usual lines about corporate vision, mission statements, and the rules of engagement that governed BLU's operations in the Gravel War.

As she spoke, the team leafed through their dossiers. Like Pauling had said, most of it was updated contract information, the pay and furlough schedule for the year, and the current attendance and illness policy. Revised instructions on ordering munitions were included, along with a small advertisement from Mann Co. for their newest fashionable hats and clothing for sale. What several members of the team noticed, however, was a new page, titled Non-Human Anatomy and Identity Policy.

Each page was different for each mercenary, detailing information about their monstrous natures, including a description of how each was attained, some redactions, and analyses of the combat advantages and disadvantages of things like Scout's antlers, Medic's wings, or Engineer's legs. For most, it was a reminder of what they already knew. Spy was disallowed from using his actual shapechanging on the battlefield as it presented an unfair advantage. No matches are to be scheduled the night of or day following a full moon, as Demoman's hybrid form was a gross advantage, and the fatigue immediately following it was a gross disadvantage. Restrictions were placed on the various magics available to the team.

"And you'll see here in subsection twenty-seven that these named alterations are the only ones banned for battlefield use," Miss Pauling continued her explanation as the mercenaries only paid half attention to her while they read. "Our intelligence has determined that there's been increasing unrest amongst the RED team in regards to our team now having an overwhelmingly supernatural roster. The Administrator has concerns that RED will go to reckless lengths to escalate if we have such an advantage. Lengths we may not be able to anticipate or replicate. As such, these restrictions have been put in place to ensure our edge is slim but meaningful. Our standing policy is that it's best not to sprint through an arms race unless you're sure you can secure victo—"

Scout frowned and looked up, "Hey, Miss P!" he called with a small wave.

Pauling stopped mid-sentence, thrown off of her rhythm. She sighed quietly and asked, "What is it, Scout?"

"This ban list don't include my antlers, just my magic. So's that mean I can rack a RED if I wanna?" The faun grinned at the prospect.

"It does," Pauling confirmed with a smile. She'd seen the footage of the few times Scout had used his antlers to gore opponents in the month and a half since he'd lost his velvet, and he was surprisingly adept at it. "Though even if it were banned, past infractions wouldn't be penalized. This list goes into effect today, so from here on out, keep these in mind, guys."

"I cannot fly?" Medic asked, looking up from his page with wide eyes. "This is an outrage!"

"Medic, nobody else has the capability for flight," Pauling reminded him. "But don't worry. Notice that flight is banned. While it's not in the paperwork because we try to remain succinct on the page, I have it directly from the Administrator that gliding is allowed."

"Gliding? So I have to climb a verdammt building if I want to use mein wings?"

"Or take advantage of your Quick-Fix's tether to follow Soldier or Demo when they're explosive jumping," she shrugged. "There are plenty of ways to use them, you just can't power your own flight."

"You do realize that I power mein own flight when gliding as well, ja? Mein wings are not large enough to actually support a creature of mein mass without magical assistance," Medic explained, one pointed eyebrow cocked.

"I'm fully aware of how garuda wings work, Medic. And I'm sure you realize what we're asking you here, and you're just trying to pick nits." Pauling regarded him with her lips pursed expectantly. He loved to challenge authority on loopholes and oversights to try and get his way. It was what made the doctor dangerous, but also as capable and effective as he was, and thus a valuable asset.

"Yes, yes," Medic grumbled, backing down.

"And, Doc, I'm going to need to meet with you after this briefing, to discuss a few other things regarding your abilities," Pauling added, tugging her glasses off to clean them on her sleeve, affecting as casual a demeanor as possible before returning the lenses to her nose and going back to her folder. "Any other questions about the new policy?"

"This is sayin' I'm a 'borderline non-human'?" Engineer asked, confusion knitting his brow. "Ain't nothin' but mundane about me, Miss Pauling."

Pauling checked her paperwork. "You've got three artificial limbs and you've showed me the schematics for more changes you plan to make."

"A man loses a limb an' uses a prosthetic, that don't make him not a human, ma'am."

"No, but when a man removes several limbs on purpose for the express purpose of replacing them with advanced mechanical facsimiles that have a series of improvements including capabilities organic limbs can't possess, like a thigh-embedded holster, for example, then that's different. If I'm right, the word being bandied about BLU corporate is 'cyborg'," Pauling corrected, not looking up from her paperwork as she sifted through a few charts regarding Engineer's work. "You're below, but approaching the percentage ceiling, which is why your species is officially listed as human right now, Engie. We'll let you know when you pass the human-machine ratio and are reclassified. If you like, I can keep you updated on a per-upgrade basis so you can chart it."

Engineer stared at the small woman wide-eyed, not exactly sure how to take in what he was being told. Sure, he'd made a few alterations to his body, but he'd never considered that it made him less than, or perhaps more than human. At least until now. He licked his lips and jawed softly for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond, when Pyro raised his hand enthusiastically.

"What've you got for me, Pyro?" Pauling replied with a smile, turning her attention to the masked arsonist.

"Can I still throw fire?"

"If you look at your revised guidelines, it notes that fire spells of second circle or lower are still available to you, so long as you avoid using any metamagic effects, so don't worry."

Scout leaned over to Soldier, "You understand any 'a that?"

"Not a word."

"Okay good, me neither. I just headbutt guys," the faun grinned.

"Let's move on to infractions," Pauling announced, flipping to the next page.

 

***

 

After the meeting ended and everyone had filed out, headed for their own tasks, Medic stayed behind, waiting outside the door of the briefing room. He waved Heavy and Scout off, told them to go drag the bed from his quarters into Heavy's and find a way to fasten them together so that the three of them could sleep comfortably together. Especially now that Scout's box spring was structurally compromised, he needed a guaranteed place to sleep at night when he wasn't with anyone else.

When the team had left, Medic looked into the room to see Miss Pauling packing up her things into her briefcase. She took a deep breath and turned to the door to see the doctor waiting for a sign as to what was expected of him. "Sorry to keep you, Doc, but we have a lot more to go over and I prefer these kinds of reprimands be on a one-to-one basis." She beckoned him to return. "Come back in. Close the door."

"Reprimands?" Medic asked, immediately taken aback. He did as he was told, striding over to stand before the small woman, dwarfing her with his imperious height only accentuated by the snowy white wings extending from his back, tucked comfortably against himself. "What for? Aren't all of mein infractions listed in mein dossier?"

"No, I still have the paperwork for this one. It's more important than a minor pay dock. Have a seat."

Medic pulled a chair over and sat at the corner of the table, watching as she followed suit, sitting across from him. She pulled a folder from her briefcase and handed it to him.

Inside were a series of photographs, security printouts, and a typed description of the day that he became a garuda. The circle, his calculations, his failed casting, the twisted shapes of his body as the magic went wild, all laid out bare for him in glossy colour. He shuffled through the paperwork, his stomach turning at the sight of the mess he'd become for the agonizing seconds between the casting of his spell and its completion. He remembered the sensation starkly, and it made him queasy. Accompanying the records were a few photos of his attempt to summon a faerie, only to have Pyro transform his material component into one.

"The guidelines say that spellcasting without special permission is only disallowed in combat, not off the field," Medic countered before Pauling could speak, jumping to the defensive. "These were all performed outside of work rounds. Und you stated that those did not go into effect until today."

"That's not the problem, Medic. Otherwise I'd have a lot more spells here. The problem is the fact that you keep attempting to summon creatures."

"Those conjurations are banned? Why is it not in the policy—"

"Because they're not, but you have to be very choosy about whom you conjure. Medic, what were you trying to do with these spells? The faerie? You were trying to summon a faerie, right?"

"Ja."

"And this one?" Pauling asked, jabbing a finger at a photo of the massive summoning circle. "You were trying to summon a garuda."

"I was," Medic admitted. No use lying to this woman. Surveillance was part of her job, and she knew everything that went on around the base.

"Did either that faerie or that garuda have clearance to be on Builder's League United property?"

"I—was? Clearance?"

"Medic, it's not a matter of you summoning creatures. We don't especially care about magic use off the field," Pauling sighed, sitting back in her chair. She waved her hand, a soft purple glow humming for a moment at her fingertips, and the lid of the briefcase fell shut. Medic's mouth fell open. "The problem is that whether they arrive on-base by boat, plane, foot, car, truck, van, train, wing, helicopter, or magical portal, all personnel must have the proper clearance to be here. Unauthorized personnel are not allowed, Medic. That's like rule number one."

The doctor jawed at the air a moment, finally dragging his eyes from the suitcase back to Pauling. Her green eyes were hooded, and she looked rather annoyed at having to actually explain this to him. "I—I did not realize this applied," he replied, still a little bewildered.

"Well it does. Pyro creating that faerie was noted as an infraction for him, don't worry. And the only reason I'm sitting here talking to you about it is because you've attempted this more than once. A third time means I actually have to do something more than talk to you, Doc. I don't want to do that," she explained with a frown. "Conjuration isn't banned, but summoning or calling unauthorized personnel to a classified site is still against company rules. You can do all of the summoning you want off-site, but when you're within the confines of the BLU base and its surrounding area, that sort of thing is, well, verboten." She grinned a little, hoping it lightened the mood.

Medic hefted a small laugh at what he assumed was her attempt at humour. She was such an awkward little thing sometimes, it was endearing. "Unlike the rest of mein experiments, I will keep mein experiments in conjuration off-site from now on," he assured her, holding a gloved hand up like a promise.

"That's a relief," Pauling smiled, reaching over to snap her briefcase closed. She stood, straightening her skirt, and grabbed the case from the table. "I think that's everything, then. Let Engie know the rest of his equipment should be here around dinnertime. The shipment got held up." She checked her coat to make sure she had everything, then looked to the doctor. "One last thing, Medic. You, um, do you want... help? With... your magic?"

Medic blinked, "Help?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, your runework is _terrible_ , like really bad. So I figured maybe you might want to get away from circle magic so you don't have to worry about any more accidental transmutations?" Pauling's grin was nervous, but earnest, and she tried not to grind her teeth with awareness that she'd likely just insulted the nascent mage. "I mean, that circle you did, all of the elements were there, but you can't put a personal flair on circle magic. Especially with conjuring or divining, you have to be exacting, or else it can be disasterous. And an accident like that again, well, if its effects can't be fixed by respawn, then technically that's breach of contract for damaging Builder's League United property, Doc."

The doctor pouted a bit in reply, an eyebrow raised skeptically, "You are a mage?"

The small woman nodded. "Was a hedge mage through my teens, took up apprenticeship once I got out of high school. It's how I landed my job here, actually. Divining has a great bonus of making you really likely to be in the right place at the right time. I'm not allowed to say more than that because of my contract, but essentially, I'm a journeyman diviner with pretty hefty credentials."

"Und you can teach me magic? Is that not a conflict of interest?"

"Not at all! I'm your supervisor, Medic. Technically it can count as job-training because while you can't cast on-field, you can use magic off the field in your work and as part of your research. Plus, it'll improve employee safety, since circle magic is clearly not your _thing_."

Medic considered this for a moment. Teaching himself from a book had gotten him surprisingly far, but to have someone help him more readily and answer his questions would be an invaluable tool. Miss Pauling's magic was not innate like Spy or Pyro's, so she would understand it as the science it was, rather than an extension of self.

"Plus, if there's anything new you want to learn, or any questions you have, it's got to be better than that human-skin book you have, right?" Pauling added, excitedly.

 _That_ had piqued Medic's interest. "You have a very good point, Miss Pauling. How could I say no? It is not like that deadbeat wizard Merasmus planned to teach me more than how to read mein way to victory. If you are willing, I am willing," he replied with a wide grin. "If you will help me with a...project I am working on."

He made it sound like she was begging him to let her teach him, bargaining, rather than her extending a favour. The smaller mage frowned a moment, then ventured to ask, "And what is that?"

"What do you know about enchanting objects to allow for transmutations without finite duration?"

Pauling looked at him with concern, to which Medic held up his hands to show he was no threat.

"Do not worry, it is nothing that will help on the field. Or, it could, but that is not even slightly why I want to create it."

"What are you thinking?"

"Heavy is half-jotun. I want to see that half turn to a whole."

Miss Pauling bit back a snicker and a dirty joke about Medic, Heavy, and holes.


End file.
